


i wanna get better

by George_Benji



Series: Bad Things Happen [5]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociation, Fake AH Crew, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, knifes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 08:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21071663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/George_Benji/pseuds/George_Benji
Summary: It’s hard to live with yourself when you know that you’ve hurt people… when you know that you’ve killed people.Ryan has done worse.





	i wanna get better

**Author's Note:**

> uhh this is based in the bgb-verse by @voiid-vagabond but you don't necessarily have to have read it to get this

It’s hard to live with yourself when you know that you’ve hurt people… when you know that you’ve killed people.

Ryan has done worse.

At night he hears pleads and whimpers and cries and everything he wants he forget. Everything he’s ever done to feel the power that he was void of.

He runs his fingers along his legs, he moves his head left and right, his cheeks twitch and his eyes squint. He’s restless and exhausted at the same time. He knows there’s something he needs to be doing, but he can’t… figure out… what… it… is… He bolts up and rolls off of his bed. His room is too cold to sleep in. He hears a whimper from just behind his ear and he starts pacing around.

The thermostat says 75 and Ryan says, “Liar.”

He hears the whimper again, this time from under his bed. He holds his breath, but is standing starkly still, head pointed where his blankets touch the floor. He knows the feeling of rush he gets from this, as if someone is holding their breath just out of sight. Ryan’s mouth quirks up in a grin and his eyes wide as he turns his body towards the bed. He feels no joy.

Something rustles the edge of blanket and there’s another whimper. Ryan’s down, tossing the blanket away before he can grab the knife from under his pillow.

There’s nothing under the bed. Ryan’s smile drops, he crawls under the bed. He’s screaming. His throat stings and the noise comforts him and when it feels like he can’t scream anymore, he keeps going. At some point he thrashes the knife gripped tight in his hand around, he somehow misses himself but the bottom of his bed takes it.

Ryan’s voice is hoarse and dry and possibly bloody when the light in his room snaps on and faces are peeing at him from outside the bed.

“Are you okay- What on Earth are you doing- Where did you get the knife- What’s going on- Please stop screaming- Are you okay- Are you okay- Are you okay?”

Ryan climbs out from under the bed, hands reach to touch him and they retract quickly when he flinches away. It’s hard to see faces and tell them apart. He knows it's more than one person with him. He knows that he trusts and loves them. He knows that trust and love will only protect him so much.

He’s not quite sure how long this is happening, a hand offers a glass of water, and Ryan moves away from it. The light snaps off, and Ryan glances around, blinking slowly, standing on his sore legs. Michael sits, leaned up against the closed bedroom door, his head lolled to the side as snores vibrate in and out of him. A glass of water sits just beside him.

Ryan tries to ask him why he’s in his room, but his voice is hoarse and he feels like he’s dying so instead he drinks the water sitting next to Michael. It burns his throat. When he finishes the cup he drops it to the floor and climbs back into bed.

His eyes pop back open when he hears the whimper again.

It sounds like it’s under his bed again.

Ryan leans up as little as possible so he can check that Michael’s still there. When he sees a blank, concrete wall instead he bolts up and sprints to bash down the door. His first run at the wall produces a hollow thud, so he rears back and gets ready to charge again. Heavy hands are places on his shoulders.

He doesn’t think, he swings.

“AUGH!” Michael clutches his jaw and leans down in pain.

Ryan blinks.

And looks around.

His bed. His window. His walls. His door… His… Room… 

His room is warm. And bright. And not where he thinks it is.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan mutters, not entirely sure if he feels bad for socking Michael, or just because he knows that’s what is said when you punch someone. 

A different noise comes from under Ryan’s bed. Someone shushing. Sobbing. More whimpering.

Ryan looks at Michael, who’s still rubbing at his face, but not leaned over anymore.

“What do you hear right now?” Ryan asks, his voice is hoarse and it hurts to speak.

Michael stops rubbing for a moment and looks at Ryan, his eyebrows scrunching together. “What do you mean?”

The sobbing gets louder.

“Right now,” Ryan croaks, “what do you hear?”

“I-...” Michael looks around the room. “Cars outside? My own heartbeat… Your heartbeat.”

Ryan shakes his head, his hair shakes around as well. Ryan sits down, beside his bed, and sets a hand near where his blanket touches the ground. He’s less than surprised when the noises stop all at once.

“Is it okay if I sit next to you?” Michael’s a few feet away from Ryan, almost like he’s afraid.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay…” Michael sits down across from Ryan, his back against the wall. “How are you feeling?”

Ryan shrugs.

“Okay… I care about you… You can talk to me about… stuff.”

Ryan shrugs again.

It’s kind of like lightning strikes, because everything goes white, then black, then he’s standing somewhere else, holding a dull knife to his hand and he saws and laughs as uncontrollably as he can.

He walks down an alley, following loud sobbing. His hand stings where he’s rubbing at it with the knife.

And suddenly he’s sitting bolt upright in his own bed, tears streaming down his face. 

Michael’s still leaned against the wall and Ryan isn’t sure why but his heart won’t stop thudding.

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i love my girlfriend


End file.
